


Not His Own

by Mikkal



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Found Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 03:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7492296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkal/pseuds/Mikkal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was suppose to be a training mission. After the chaos that was Coran and his 10,000 year old debt, Allura picks a planet to work on the paladins' diplomatic skills. </p><p>Too bad nothing in life is ever that easy, and the paladins' just have the worst luck.</p><p>Especially Shiro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not His Own

**Author's Note:**

> Never become my favorite character, because this is what happens (which is not the worst thing I've done to a character)
> 
> Also, I've only read the first issue of the Voltron: LD comic (it came out a few days ago), so I don't know the ending yet. It will be mentioned only sparingly. But the comic takes place after Rebirth (the last Balmera episode) and before Crystal Venom.

**Now**

**_Jex’ties_ Atmosphere **

_‘Shiro! Shiro, are you okay?’_

_‘Answer us!’_

            He groans, head hanging, his vision blurry. _Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry_. That’s what he wants to say, but his mouth isn’t working, his tongue thick and heavy. His head pounds, his joints ache. What’s wrong with him?

            His Lion growls, the link between them vibrating. Shiro closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath, but his nose screams in protest so he chokes, gasping through his mouth. _God damn it_. He reaches for the controls when— _crack!_

            Shiro screams, his arm contorting unnaturally, bending back, his fingers twitching. Pain radiates through his chest, squeezing his heart tight, _too tight_.

            _‘Shiro, what’s wrong!’_

_‘Keith—!’_

_‘I’m on it!’_

            No, no. Something’s wrong _. Don’t._

“K-Keith, n—.”

            He screams again, tearing from his throat.

            ( _Champion, hello.)_

There’s…he can _feel_ something there, in his head. Rummaging around like Sendak was, like Haggar had been. It felt like, it _feels_ like he’s not himself, he’s not his own.

            He grits his teeth, fighting the pain, willing himself to _just move, damn it_. He grips his controls, pulling back to stop, instead his hands twist on their own accord and he turns the Black Lion around to face his friends head on.

            Keith, at the front, stops abruptly. ‘ _Shiro, what’s going on? Are you okay?’_

            Shiro powers up the Black Lion’s lasers, aiming for Lance—the Blue Lion, Jack-of-all-trades. Take out the multi-tasker first.

            No, no, why would he—? What’s going on? Why can’t he _control_ —?

            ‘ _Shiro?_ ’

            “I—,” he croaks out. “L-Lance, move!”

            ‘ _What the hell are you doing?’_

            He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. He can’t control it. _I can’t control it!_

“MOVE!”

            His Lion shrieks…or he does. Shiro doesn’t know. One minute he’s launching lasers and the next he shoving the Black Lion into a charge, straight for Keith while Pidge is distracted by protecting Lance. _Wait, that’s not the plan. Take out_ Blue.

            His plan is going left and right and in little swirls like those wormholes.

            Keith is the smallest, the fastest, but Shiro’s the Black Paladin. He has all their specialties, twice the power than Lance does. The Red Lion is too frozen, in shock, in betrayal, _something_ , to dodge when the Black Lion crashes into him. He grabs Keith in his jaws and _bites_.

            ‘ _Shiro! Stop!’_

No. No, he _won’t_ stop. This is what he must do. Voltron cannot land in Zarkon’s hands. They are too _weak_ , too hesitant to take on the Emperor. He only has to take out one of them, and then Voltron can’t form. Easy. Keep them from trying again.

The Black Lion crushes the Red Lion even more, a screeching filling the comm-units as his teeth make it through the first layer of metal. Shiro squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. _Keith, come on, fight back!_

The little breath he has in his lungs is knocked out suddenly. He sees a flash of yellow— _Hunk_ —before he goes _flying_ , rolling over and over and over in the air. He’s strapped to the cockpit’s chair, but not tightly enough. His head slams against something, his head ringing, lights spark behind his eyelids.

( _crush harder,_ Champion _. what are you_ worth _if you don’t_ win?)

Shiro shakes his head, like a dog with water in its ears. “Get out,” he growls.

( _no._ )

His stomach rolls, his heart plummets. The side of his face is warm, slick with blood. It gets in his eye, dying his vision partially red.

‘ _Keith, you okay?’_

_‘Yeah. Thanks, Hunk.’_

_‘We need a plan.’_

_‘Shiro, you still there? Can you tell us anything?’_

His vision wavers, his hands tremble. He chokes on a sob—This isn’t him. They have to believe that, this _isn’t_ him.

 _(why would they believe that? think about that a little more. you’re a_ gladiator _, you’re made to fight, Champion. that’s all you’re good at_.)

            Shiro clutches at his head, his Lion roaring. “Get out,” he mumbles. “Get out. Get out.”

            ( _no._ )

            He _yanks_ his helmet off with a scream, throwing it aside, and digs his fingers into his hair. The Black Lion starts drifting, drifting down to the planet’s surface, but he pays it no mind. No, he needs to get this _thing_ out of his head, before he does something horrible, terrible.

            ‘ _Oh no, someone stop him. He’s going down!’_

            Shiro claws at his skin, but his gloves dull his nails and nothing comes from it. His heart beats wildly in his chest, a hummingbird trapped in the cage of his ribs, and he sobs, terrified. He unclips his belt, stumbling from his chair as the stability of his Lion shifts downward.

            ( _that’s it, that’s a good Champion.)_

            ‘ _Damn it, Black damaged my speed. Lance, get him!’_

_‘On it, on it!’_

He trips, skittering until he slams into the console, his whole world tilting on its axis. He fumbles at his armor’s clasps, pulling each piece off even as his hands grow clumsy and desperate. His fingers fat and ridiculous. One of them’s not even flesh and blood! How could he be having such trouble with it?

            Black _roars_ , screaming a warning, seconds too late.

            _BOOM!_

Panic. Pain. Darkness.

            Laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written for anything other than the Flash for a whole year, so I'm rusty. Woot


End file.
